


Don't Be Broken

by ggbayley



Series: Two Unlikely Hearts That Changed Destiny [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Noble Robb, Poor Theon, Robb/Theon reunited, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Some M/F Reference, Stark honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggbayley/pseuds/ggbayley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Robb loving Theon was the one thing that saved him?</p><p>~</p><p>Robb looked into those eyes, which met his for a second, then flicked away. “Do you know me?” he asked, desperately wanting to hear his name on those lips again.</p><p>“Robb,” came the choked whisper. As degraded as it was, it was still Theon’s voice.</p><p>~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Broken Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Diverges from canon during A Clash of Kings (Season 2). Minor changes to Theon’s fate. Major for Robb.

It was a relief to finally be back in the North. After so much fighting, things were finally beginning to quiet. King’s Landing was settled at long last, and Robb had returned to Winterfell to secure the North. There had been some trouble when the truth of Winterfell’s sack had been learned. It culminated in a brief siege of the Dreadfort, after which Robb had taken the Bastard of Bolton’s head. The things they found within the walls were appalling.

Robb had liberated the dungeons himself. It wasn’t something he usually would have done, but he was looking for someone. They found few living souls, and many, many mutilated corpses. If the Bastard’s head had not already been separated from his shoulders, it would have been after that.

When they opened the door to the darkest, filthiest cell, the smell was overpowering. Robb gagged, covering his nose with his cloak as he entered. He was sure the pile of shit and bones inside was another corpse – until it moved. He waved to the men helping him, who fetched a pallet to carry the unfortunate out on. The form quivered as they touched it, the creature’s eyes raising to stare around in wild fear.

Somehow, Robb recognized that drawn and withered face. He sent a guard running for a cloak, swiftly covering the poor creature with his own hands. “Keep him out of sight. Have him cleaned and treated by the Maester, then brought to me,” he instructed. He saw the questions in the guards’ eyes, but chose not to answer. None of them would have known the man, even had he borne any resemblance to his old self.

It was late that night when the guards helped a cloaked, hidden figure limp into his room. The Maester accompanied him, and bent to whisper in Robb’s ear. Fingers. Toes. Teeth. Scars beyond count. Filth, shit, and blood, some his own, some not. Starved nearly to the point of death. Robb listened, and nodded. The Maester didn’t voice the question in his eyes, and Robb didn’t answer.

“Leave us,” he commended. He saw the figure start to collapse when the guards released his arms, and swiftly pulled out a chair for him before dismissing the men. After the door closed, it took a moment for him to raise the courage to draw back the hood.

Robb stared. It was worse than he had first thought; the luscious brown hair had turned grey and brittle. His skin was ghost white, his lips cracked and split. Even clean he looked wasted. Robb sunk to his knees, staring up into those downcast eyes. His hand cupped one hollow cheek.

“Theon?”

The figure jerked violently, shaking his head and beginning to tremble. “No. No, I know my name. No. No.”

“No one’s going to hurt you,” Robb tried to tell him. “Ramsey’s dead.”

But the creature didn’t seem to hear him, his emaciated form rocking back and forth as he muttered, “I know my name. I know my name. Please. I know my name.”

Robb sat heavily on the floor. He hadn’t cried in so long – not since this very man had broken his heart – but now the tears forced their way out, pelting down onto his cheeks. He wiped at him angrily, cursing himself for being weak. But then, this was the man he had always allowed himself to be weak with, his safe place, or so he thought.

Robb took a deep breath. So much had happened since Theon departed his camp for Pyke. Stannis had smashed his forces apart trying to take King’s Landing; Robb in turn had shattered the weakened Lannisters with a Tyrell alliance. Robb hated that his place was now in King’s Landing, on the Iron Throne, and not in Winterfell. But like his father, he did his duty.

His duty had put Margaery Tyrell by his side; their wedding night had been the first time he took someone to bed since Theon’s departure. He had found that duty pleasant enough; she was exceptionally beautiful, with a soft, sleek body, lovely pert nipples, and a wet inviting place between her legs. He enjoyed it, but found no real passion there. After his heart had been so brutally broken, he wasn’t sure if he could ever really love her; but he treated her kindly, and she seemed content. By the time he had left for Winterfell, she had his baby growing in her belly.

That was duty. With Theon, it had been love. Perhaps it had been a boyhood fantasy, but he had truly loved the Iron Islander, and had been able to love no one since. When the betrayal came, it nearly destroyed him. He had to shut off his heart to continue, drowning his pain in vows of revenge and fits of anger. He had yearned so deeply for answers, and now he saw that he would have none.

Still, even deeper than his thirst for an explanation, he had carried a vain hope that maybe, somehow, their flame could be rekindled. He remembered it as the sweetest, truest thing he had ever known. Only with Theon could he truly unleash himself. Only with Theon could he let himself be anything, anyone. Theon’s arms had been the one refuge he had from the ever-present crush of duty.

Their last night together had been exquisite. Robb had sent everyone out of his tent and forbidden entry. He and Theon had made love on the furs by the fire, at first gently, then so passionately that Robb had to shove a leather belt in Theon’s mouth to keep the whole camp from hearing his cries. After a rest where they had clung tightly to each other, Theon had fucked Robb, Robb’s stream of moans muted in Theon’s lips. It was the hottest night of Robb’s life, but it had taken on a bitter flavor when Robb had realized, after the fall of Winterfell, that it had been their last night together. In that moment, he felt like a part of him died.

Trying to wipe away the memories with the tears, Robb rubbed at his cheeks, grabbing for the figure’s hands. The missing fingers made him cringe, but he needed the connection. “Theon. Theon please, look at me. It’s me,” he pleaded.

The figure whimpered, recoiling every time the name passed Robb’s lips. “No, no it’s not me. Please, I know my name.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Robb assured him. “Did you – did you eat anything?” He took a bowl of grapes and rolls from the table, holding it out.

The figure’s eyes locked on the bowl, his tongue wetting his cracked lips. But he made no move to take it.

“Please.” Rob held out a grape. He put it to the man’s lips and popped it into his mouth. “Eat, please.”

Hesitantly, the man chewed, swallowing with a wince. Robb gave him another, and he swallowed a bit quicker the second time. “Yes. Please, eat.” After a few more grapes, during which the man watched him with timid, suspicious eyes, Robb offered him a roll. The man snatched it, tearing it in pieces and shoving it in his mouth, swallowing it without even bothering to chew. He kept an eye on Robb the whole time, as if he were terrified that Robb would snatch the food away at any second.

“That’s good, good,” Robb encouraged, reaching out to stroke that pale, brittle hair. “Very good.” He offered another roll, which was inhaled just as quickly. He put the bowl aside, and looked into those eyes, which met his for a second, then flicked away. “Do you know me?” he asked, desperately wanting to hear his name on those lips again.

“Robb,” came the choked whisper. As degraded as it was, it was still Theon’s voice.

“Yes.” Robb cupped his cheek again, managing to hold Theon’s gaze for a moment. “No one’s going to hurt you any more, now that I’m here,” he soothed.

Theon’s eyes stared at him blankly. Robb stood, taking his arm and helping him limp over to his own pile of furs. He lay Theon there, lying beside him and drawing a thick fur over them both. He pulled Theon close, holding that gaunt body against him. For the second time that night, he cried.


	2. What's Broken May Never Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The damage runs deep, but Robb's yearning for his one safe place won't let him give up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hard writing these first two chapters because of the heavy angst. I got stuck for a while, and had to listen to Reek's chapters in "As Dance With Dragon" to help Theon find his voice again.

He dreamed of Winterfell.

Theon’s lips were on his neck as he woke, the Ironborn’s hot breath sending shivers of arousal through him.

“I want to fuck you,” Theon murmured in his ear, nipping the tender lobe with his teeth.

Robb gasped, his arms sliding around Theon’s waist. “You want to put it in me?” he whispered lustily.

“Yes,” Theon growled. “I want to spread your legs and take you, so _hard_ , so _deep_.” He rocked his hips against Robb, letting the Stark feel his hardening cock.

Robb spread himself eagerly, heart pounding in excitement as Theon slid between his thighs.

When he awoke, the memory made him instantly sad. His body had been aroused, but one look at the figure in his arms quickly turned ardor into pity. Theon was sleeping, but his eyes jerked beneath their lids, and his body twitched, as if even in sleep he could find no respite. Robb held him close, his fingers brushing against a dozen scarcely healed wounds on the Islander’s back.

”Don’t be broken,” he whispered sadly. “Not completely. Come back to me, please. I need you.” He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. He knew it was foolish, this fantasy he held of a man who had vanished long ago. His Theon had disappeared, somewhere off on Pyke. The man who came after was a stranger, as was this wasted creature. And yet…

Robb stroked that pale cheek. He couldn’t control the tenderness he felt, the need to hold and comfort this man, for whom the world had gone so wrong. “I can’t believe that you wanted to betray me,” he whispered. “I do believe you loved me. As I did you.” He moved closer, pressing their lips together in a kiss.

Theon’s eyes had stopped moving, and Robb sensed that he was awake. The Ironborn didn’t stir, giving no sign that he was coherent.

Robb wanted to say his name, but held his tongue, as hearing his own name seemed to terrify Theon. “Open your eyes. Look at me,” he whispered.

His command was obeyed. Theon looked at him, and Robb found himself drowning in those sad eyes. He didn’t know what to say, so he kissed him again. He knew it was wrong, but he wanted his lips to convey what his words couldn’t. The kiss was not returned, Theon’s body tense and uncomfortable.

Robb pulled back, cupping Theon’s cheek again. “You’ll come with us to Winterfell. You’ll be safe,” he promised.

No response came.

~

Theon was too weak to ride, so Robb seated him with one of his guards, a sweet, kind man whom he trusted. He would’ve liked to put Theon on his own horse, cradled safely in his arms, but that would have raised too many questions. He ordered them to keep Theon cloaked, so those inevitable questions could be delayed.

Back at Winterfell, he had them prepare a small servants room near his chambers, making sure that it had a window to give light and a small hearth. The same trusted guard brought Theon to his chambers late at night, when his king’s business was done.

Theon was able to stand on his own now, though he still looked painfully weak and thin. Robb smiled at him, and Theon’s’ eyes watched him. “I had these brought for you.”

Robb took his arm, leading him to the bed, where a fine set of clothes was laid out. He took the fine, soft leather jerkin, holding it up against his chest. The leather was supple and soft as butter, smooth and pleasing beneath his fingers. It had been made for him, but he would rather Theon have it. “You always loved these.” Robb held it out. “Touch it,” he urged.

Theon raised his disfigured hand, one fingertip brushing the fabric. It was his only movement. Undeterred, Robb moved behind him, gently guiding Theon’s arms into the jerkin and settling it on his shoulders over his simple tunic. He put his hands on Theon’s waist to turn him, gently lacing the jerkin from the hip to the neck. Tucking the laces in at Theon’s collar, he stepped back to appraise it. “It looks good,” he announced.

Theon looked down at it, but showed no sign of pleasure. “I got these too.” Robb reached for the gloves on the bed. They were an equally fine leather, warm and elegant. He had stuffed several of the fingers with paddling, so they wouldn’t hang loose when they slipped on to Theon’s maimed hands. He knew it was a ruse, perhaps a cowardly one, but Robb felt better when at least some of the damage could be hidden.

Theon’s silence was terrible to bear. Robb squeezed those now covered hands, gazing at him earnestly. “Please say something.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Theon winced and swallowed. “Your – your grace,” he quickly corrected.

Robb closed his eyes, trying to push down his frustration. _Don’t be broken,_ he thought to himself again, _Please don’t be broken._

~

“Please gods. Old gods. New gods. Drown god. Please, let me not wake from this dream. Please, it’s so nice here. Please.”

The whispered words roused Robb from his sleep. He held very still, listening. Theon was facing away from him, Robb’s arm draped across his chest. They were close beneath the furs, their body heat mingling in the warmth under the covers. Theon continued to whisper pleas, until Robb shifted behind him. The motion silenced him instantly, his body tensing.

Robb rose up on one elbow, gazing down at Theon’s frozen face. “It’s not a dream, Theon,” he whispered softly. “I’m really here.”

“No.” There were tears in Theon’s eyes, though he swiftly blinked them away. “You would never be kind to me. You hate me.”

“I never hated you. I was angry; so so angry.” He could feel Theon flinch at the words, and quickly continued, “but I couldn’t hate you.”

“He said you were dead. He said they hacked off your head and sewed your wolf’s head in its place. He said that the whole North belongs to Lannister now, and he’s ruling it for them, so there’d never be any hope of someone coming for me. So you can’t be here. You can’t.”

“He lied,” Robb asserted, cupping Theon’s pale cheek. “I took his head off myself. Ice took it off in one blow.” He smiled softly. “It’s mine again, I reclaimed it after we broke down the gates of King’s Landing.”

“Did you?” Theon gazed at him with wide eyes.

“We did.” Robb smiled grimly. “It was Joffrey’s head that came off, not mine.”

Theon’s fingers reached out for the first time, touching Robb’s cheek. “I’m glad,” he whispered. “I wanted you to win, but - ” He stopped, looking sad and guilty. “I’m Reek,” he intoned, his voice rough, “It rhymes with weak. Weak, weak.”

“No.” Robb put his hand over Theon’s, pressing the Islanders’ warm flesh against his cheek. “Our world is cruel. It was cruel to take you away from me. I was a fool to let you go.”

“You were a fool to trust me. Everyone said, and they were right.” Theon gave a mirthless laugh. “I’m Reek, Reek, it rhymes - ”

“Stop.” Robb leaned in to kiss him. He grasped the back of Theon’s neck, ravishing his fallen lover’s mouth. Theon’s cracked lips were rough against his own, but he didn’t care. They kissed for some time, Theon’s fingers sunk in his dark curls.

When he drew back, Theon was smiling. “I know it’s a dream now,” Theon murmured. “If you’re still alive, I’m sure you have a beautiful queen, and all the handsome lovers you want. You’d never look at me.”

“I do have a beautiful queen.” Robb fingers caressed the back of his neck gently. “She’s carrying my son, or daughter. I honor her, but I’ve never loved, except for you.”

“You loved him. Not me.”

“You _are_ him!” Robb asserted.

Theon nodded, but his eyes were still distant. Robb chose to simply hold him.


	3. A Glimmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb is tempted, but holds to his Stark honor

They went to the Godswood late at night, both cloaked and hidden. Robb left one guard to watch for interlopers, then led Theon to the hot pools. Even on a cold winter night, the steam kept the area around the pools warms and misty. Robb left their cloaks and clothes in a puddle by the bank, leading Theon into that warm, familiar water. He hoped that the heat would ease the Ironborn’s aches and pains, and drain away some of his own tension as well.

They soaked for a while in silence, Theon up to his neck in the steamy pool, his eyes closed. Robb gazed at him, trying to figure out how to break the distant, dreamlike state Theon seemed to live in. He was glad that Theon at least spoke to him now, but the Islander still seemed convinced that this reality simply couldn’t be. Robb wondered if he himself was living in reality; when he looked at Theon’s withered countenance, he saw the handsome man he had known, all smiles and flirtatious arrogance. He wanted that man, despite all his faults.

He was gliding across the pool before he realized it, his arms sliding around Theon’s waist. Theon didn’t fight when Robb claimed his lips, pressing their naked bodies together. His arms even circled Robb’s neck, his mouth returning Robb’s increasingly ardent kisses. Robb’s heart was pounding in his chest. His cock was pressed against Theon’s belly, hard and straining. He wanted it, wanted so badly to feel this man against him again. With Margaery, he could never unleash himself the way he had with Theon. She was too soft and delicate, while Theon’s strong body could match his in every way. This Theon, though – he was weak, broken, and starved, perhaps even thinner than the queen.

Robb forced himself to stop, pressing his face into the curve of Theon’s neck. He took deep breathes, trying to force his desire to retreat. No man as broken as Theon could give consent, and no Stark would flirt with rape. Theon would let him, he was sure, but that did not make it right.

“I won’t,” Robb whispered, cupping Theon’s cheek and gazing into his eyes. “Not until you really want me.” He held Theon tightly against him, Theon’s arms wrapped around him in return.

~

There was tension on the ride south. The Northmen were not happy to discover that Theon Turncloak was among them, and even less happy that he rode ahorse and not in chains. It was put about their host that the Bastard of Bolton had committed most of the crimes at Winterfell, not Theon, but there was still muttering. Robb had asserted that the Ironborn were still giving them trouble, harrowing their western coast and the now lordless Casterly Rock, and that Theon would assist them in once again putting the Iron Islanders down. It was a justification his men grudgingly accepted, none were happy about it. Robb kept Theon close to him, charging his guards to keep the Ironborn safe at all times.

Theon was initially uncomfortable on a horse again, but a decade of riding experience came back to him quickly. Robb saw that he got ample food, and when he was strong enough, exercise to help his body recover. They shaved the brittle, sickly hair that had grown in the Dreadfort, and his hair began to grow back, brown and luscious, though with streaks of grey. By the time they reached King’s Landing, he was starting to look more like his old self, albeit an older, more weathered version.

He slept in Robb’s bed more often than not, but they only cuddled. Robb was determined that he would not take Theon until his former lover truly desired him.

Theon was growing stronger, but still had trouble sleeping, and woke in a panic from nightmares frequently. It had taken him weeks to believe that he had actually been freed, that the Dreadfort had fallen and the Bastard was dead. He seemed increasingly to live in the present, the dreamlike disbelief ever more infrequent in his eyes. Robb said his thanks for this nightly, both to his old gods, and to the new gods of the south.

In King’s Landing, he decreed an official pardon for Theon’s past treason, though he also pronounced that Theon would never be allowed to sit the Seastone chair. He charged the Ironborn to remain in King’s Landing as a permanent liaison to the ever difficult Iron Islands, and named him advisor to the King in helping stop the Ironborn’s reaving and raping in the west. It was not a popular decision, but the southern majority in the capital accepted it more easily than the Northmen had.

Theon was not well liked by any of the Lords, but Robb made it no secret that the Islander was under his direct protection, and so he came to no harm. People still called him Turncloak behind his back, much as they had called Jaime Lannister Kingslayer.

Robb had been north for many months, and when he returned the queen was big with child. Margaery was gracious to Theon. She greeted him kindly, and was heard to chide the lords who did not.

“Lord Greyjoy is one of the King’s companions,” Robb had heard her say to one Tyrell banner man, “you should trust His Grace’s judgment, and treat this man as he does.”

Robb loved her for that. Truth be told, he was very happy in his marriage. Margaery was clever, sweet, and beautiful, and the entire court watched her growing belly with excitement, Robb first and foremost.

He spent most of his time dealing with the exhausting process of rebuilding the Kingdoms. The land had been ravaged, particularly the Riverlands, one of the most fertile areas in the kingdoms. The people were scrambling to refill their food stores as the cold chill of winter crept ever closer to the capital. Robb was relieved each night when he could roll up his parchments, dismiss his councilors, and go to Theon.

It made his heart bright to see the Ironborn recovering. Theon could chat with him easily now, and sometimes smiled, or even made a joke. Robb had commissioned a set of ivory teeth to replace those he had lost, so the Greyjoy was no longer ashamed to flash his smile, increasingly more like his old grin as time went by. Robb had also set an armorer and fletcher to work with Theon on special weapons, in the hope he could regain some of his prowess with sword and bow. Theon struggled with it greatly at first, and would have quit from frustration and shame, but Robb’s fierce support kept him going, and he did begin to learn, if awkwardly at first.

Robb was especially thankful for Margaery’s brother, Ser Loras. Loras had been the only one willing to befriend Theon, but once he came, other Southern lordlings were willing to include Theon as well. It made Robb's heart glad to see him off with friends, and now when he crawled into bed, exhausted from another day's work, he could go to sleep with a smile on his lips.


	4. Temptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb faces two temptations, one old and one new.

One sunny afternoon, when all the court were eagerly awaiting the queen’s due date, Robb sat in his solar, sharing a cup of wine with his brother-in-law. Theon was out on a hunt, armed with a light crossbow that he had been able to mater with relative accuracy. He was with Tyrell men, but Robb had sent one of his trusted guards with to guarantee the Ironborn’s safety, as he always did.

“You must be so eager,” Loras was saying. “Your first child is nearly here!”

“I am.” Robb beamed, sipping his wine. “Speaking of children, are you sure of your offer?” Loras had insisted that he be named to the King’s Guard, but Robb had been hesitant to grant the request to one so young. Loras was older than Robb, true, and a fierce warrior, but he was still in the flower of youth.

Loras’ face tightened a bit. “I’m sure, Your Grace. I want nothing more than to devote my life to you and your queen, and all my royal nieces and nephews who will come, gods willing.”

“But don’t you wish for sons of your own?”

Loras considered for a moment, then set down his goblet, meeting Robb’s sincere gaze. “Your Grace – Robb, if I may?” Robb nodded his consent. “Robb, I’m sure that, being now tied by blood, we can be honest with each other. You’ve heard what Renly was to me.”

Robb swirled the wine in his glass, not looking away from Loras’ stare. “I try not to listen to gossip.”

“Best start, if you want to stay king.” Loras smiled softly. “It’s true of course. Renly shared my bed. I mention it,” he continued quickly, “because it seems to me – well, it seems to me that, perhaps, you could understand that – desire.” He looked at Robb pointedly.

Robb cleared his throat. “Your sister is carrying my child.”

“Yes. You are quite capable of doing your duty, that doesn’t surprise me of a Stark.” He learned in closer, setting a hand on Robb’s knee. “Your Grace, I would like to see you – happy.” His fingers moved softly over the fabric of Robb’s breaches. “Fulfilled, if you will. If you felt the need for some, say, companionship, especially with my sister big with child…”

“I - ” Robb swallowed hard. He reached to remove Loras’ hand from his knee, a rush of blood pounding in his ears. “I appreciate your concern, Ser Loras. But I – I assure you, I am quite - ” He broke off as Loras rose, approaching him and leaning in close.

“I’ll leave you to consider it, Your Grace,” Loras murmured, one fingers moving across Robb’s lips to silence his objections. “Margaery wants to see you happy as well.” He smiled softly, his eyes flicking up and down Robb’s lean form. “Think about it.” He strode for the door, and Robb couldn’t help but watch his hips sway as he left. Loras’ swagger was enticing, his body perfect and his face as lovely as a cherub. It had been a very long time, and Robb did miss it. Being around an ever more spy and healthy Theon made him yearn for it all the more, but he was iron fast in his resolve not to force anything with the Iron Islander. Theon’s scars from the Dreadfort ran deep; Robb knew he could never fully comprehend the tortures Theon had endured, or the invisible scars they might have left. 

He didn’t even know if, after suffering such an ordeal, Theon could feel desire again. Though they lay together frequently in bed, he had never once felt Theon’s cock grow hard, quite in contrast to his own. He couldn’t help but look when they bathed together, and every time the Ironborn’s cock had been limp and soft. Robb wished desperately that Theon would come to him in a passion again, but even after months, there was no sign of it.

Loras offered a tempting alternative. Perhaps, if Robb were to accept his offer, it would give him the resolve to respect Theon, and honor his friendship without the undercurrent of desire. Loras was young, handsome, and virile. Robb could picture them kissing; he could picture his hands on those sleek muscles, his fingers running through those blonde curls. And he could picture his nails raking Loras’ back as Loras took him.

It was a hot fantasy, but he forced himself to stop. He loved Theon, and given the choice, he would never take another lover. If he satisfied his passion with Loras, what would that do to Theon? The Iron Islander was growing strong, but Robb had a feeling that the psychological trauma ran so deep, a blow like that could be devastating. Tempting as it was, he could not take Loras to bed. He couldn’t risk whatever chance he had of reclaiming Theon as his lover.

~

They were curled up in bed later, Robb with his head resting comfortably on Theon’s chest, his fingers playing idly across Theon’s belly.

“Robb.”

He looked up, meeting the Ironborn’s curious gaze. “Mmm?”

“You’re restless,” Theon told him. “Are you thinking of the queen?”

“No.” Robb bit his lip, gazing into Theon’s lovely blue eyes, which he had always felt content to let himself drown in. “It’s Loras.” He wanted to slap himself for saying it, but he was used to speaking openly with Theon – his safe place – and found it hard to restrain himself now.

Theon looked at him expectantly, and he sighed, frowning. “Gods, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“You can tell me anything,” the Greyjoy assured him, his hand rising to tousle Robb’s lovely dark curls.

Robb swallowed, but continued. “We shared a cup of wine today, and he – he wants me to be happy.” He ran a hand through his own hair. “I mean – he wants to _make_ me happy.”

The understanding was clear in Theon’s eyes. “Oh.” He was quiet a moment. “Of course you don’t need my permission, but you would have it.”

“I don’t want it!” Robb found Theon’s hand and clutched it in his. “I would never consider it!”

“You should. He’s handsome, bold and valiant.” Theon looked away. “I don’t know if I can give you what you need,” he said softly. “I want to, but - ” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Robb told him. “I love you Theon, it’s a gift from the gods just to have you back in my life. If the only sex I have is in my marriage bed, so be it. I won’t take another lover.”

Theon looked at him soulfully, tears sparkling in his eyes. He pulled Robb to him and kissed him deeply. “I love you,” he whispered, drawing back just far enough to meet Robb’s gaze. “I – I will, Robb. You wouldn’t be forcing me. I want to make you happy.”

“I am happy.” Robb kissed his brow.

“But I – we could.”

“No.” Robb’s hand stroked his soft hair, appreciating that the brown strands had grown back so healthy. “I love what you are to me, Theon. I only want you to be with me if it’s what you truly desire.”

Theon nodded, still looking a little sad. He looked at Robb hesitantly for a moment, then his fingers wrapped around the back of Robb’s neck, and he pulled the Stark’s lips to his own. They kissed passionately for several minutes, Theon’s hands sliding down into Robb’s loose cotton breaches, kneading and squeezing the globes of his ass. Robb murmured approval into his mouth, his hand moving down Theon’s stomach to cup his groin.

After a moment, Robb broke off, his hand moving to caress Theon’s cheek. “Don’t force it,” he murmured softly. Theon’s cock wasn’t hard, and they both knew it. “You have me, you don’t need to do anything to win me,” Robb whispered in his ear. “I’m yours.”

Theon’s arms crushed the King against his chest. Robb reveled in their strength.


	5. Sweet Cries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb receives a gift from the gods.

The guard opened the door, interrupting Robb’s nervous pacing.

“He’s back, Your Grace.”

“Thank the Gods!” Robb exclaimed as Theon came hustling into the room. His arms were around the Ironborn before the door was even closed. “The baby’s nearly here,” he murmured into Theon’s shoulder, closing his eyes and taking a deep, calming breath. “They say she’s doing well, very well. Gods, Gods! I never knew it felt like this.” He held Theon close, trying to make his racing heart calm.

“They’ll be fine,” Theon assured him, stroking his king’s dark curls.

“Of course they will. Of course,” Robb repeated, taking another deep breath. “I’m so thankful you’re here.” He gave Theon a smile, when, from the next room, they heard a baby’s cry. Robb’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. He stared at the door to his queen’s bedroom, excited voices barely audible on the other wide. Then it swung open, and a beaming nursemaid approached, a squalling red bundle wrapped in her arms.

“My King, your son,” she breathed, handing him the babe.

Robb stared down at the tiny red bundle, a thousand emotions racing across his face. When he looked up at Theon, he had tears in his eyes. “I’m a father,” he whispered. “I have a son!” He held the babe against his chest, laughing as tears slid down his cheeks. “Theon, I have a son!” He held the baby out in his arms, and Theon looked down at the screaming infant, a soft smile on his lips.

“Your son,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Robb’s temple. “He’s beautiful.”

Robb nodded. He held the baby carefully against his chest, striding toward the birthing room. “Theon,” he called when he saw the Ironborn wasn’t following. Theon walked hesitantly after him, entering the room where the servants were busily cleaning up the evidence of the birth.

Margaery lay in bed beneath the covers, looking exhausted, but happy.

“My Lord,” she murmured, casting an enchanting smile on Robb. “Lord Greyjoy.” Theon inclined his head to her, hanging back as Robb sat beside her on the bed, babe in arms.

“He’s perfect,” Robb whispered to his queen. “As are you.” He caressed her cheek, leaning in to kiss her lips softly. “I couldn’t have a better wife. I couldn’t have a better queen.”

Margaery smiled at him warmly. “The first of many sons I shall bear you, I pray.” She held out her arms, and he handed her the babe. She pulled one full breast from her shift, making Theon look away swiftly. “No need to be embarrassed, Lord Greyjoy,” she murmured as the babe latched on to suckle at her breast. “I hold you in the highest regard, as does my husband.” She cast him a smile so bright, Theon could feel its warmth. She looked at Robb again, rocking the babe gently as he nursed. “I thought it would be your wish to name him Eddard for your late father, My Lord.”

“That is my desire,” Robb agreed, beaming that she had known.

“Then he’s Eddard.” Margaery confirmed. “Our little Prince Eddard.” She shared her husband’s enthused smile, then her kind eyes turned to Theon again. “The babe and I will need to rest. I would be much obliged if you would keep my husband company, Lord Greyjoy.” She smiled broadly. “It’s a magical night for us all.”

Robb kissed her good night, his face flushed with happiness as he followed Theon back to his own chambers. They left the guards at the door, Robb leading Theon into his bed chamber. “A son! A son.” The king couldn’t stop beaming. He had just closed the door, when Theon pushed him against it, claiming his lips. Robb’s arms wound around Theon’s neck as the Ironborn ravished his mouth.

They kissed frantically, Theon’s hands exploring his back, sliding down to his ass. Their lips didn’t part for a moment as they stepped backward toward the bed, hands unlacing clothing and leaving a trail of it on the floor. Robb shuddered when he slid down Theon’s breeches, and found a hard cock pressing urgently against his belly. He tumbled back onto the bed, pulling Theon with him and on top of him, his breath now coming in excited pants. Theon fumbled on the nightstand with his four-fingered right hand, finding a small bottle of oil there and applying some quickly to himself, then sliding a finger into Robb. Robb rocked urgently on the digit, his breath short and hot.

“Please, Theon,” he begged.

Theon’s lips found his again as he slid inside. Robb moaned so loud, it seemed it would penetrate even the thick stone walls. Theon grasped his ass, driving himself inside as he ravished Robb’s kiss swollen lips.

After only a few thrusts, Robb gave a cry, his seed spurting across his belly. Theon kept kissing him, but withdrew, rolling onto the mattress beside him. They kissed softly, Robb’s exhaled breaths emerging as soft moans.

When he could finally bear to release Theon’s lips, Robb drew back, smiling softly as his fingers played across Theon’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t be.” Theon’s bright blue eyes were dancing. “I’m amazed you could feel such desire for me.”

“I do,” Robb groaned, appreciating the feel of Theon’s soft skin beneath his fingertips as his hands traced along the Greyjoy’s side. “I couldn’t want someone more.” He glanced down, grinning at what he saw. “You’re still hard.”

“The better to fuck you with.” Theon’s grin was his old, roughish smile, the one that had always sucked Robb into his lips like the sweetest honey. Robb claimed them now, sinking his fingers in Theon’s soft hair. They kissed with increasing passion, and he could feel his ardor building once more.

As his cock hardened, Theon rolled on top of him, the sweet pain of penetration making Robb gasp. He lasted much longer this time, rocking his hips slowly as he moaned into Theon’s mouth, reveling in the feel of Theon’s thick cock inside him. He loved the way it stretched him, possessed him, and claimed him. He gave himself completely in Theon’s arms, and it was the sweetest freedom he had ever known.

They came shuddering in each other’s arms, Robb flush with happiness at the feel of Theon’s hot seed inside him. He groaned softly as Theon’s cock left his body, so sated and exhausted that he fell right asleep, his head tucked into the nape of Theon’s neck, his lover’s arms wrapped securely around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much happier than George R would make it, I know! But sometimes I just want to give Theon and Robb a break. Maybe I'll have some new drama for them to face, if I'm inspired to do a sequel.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.


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